The Short Humour Site

Home : Writers' Showcase : Submission Guidelines : A Man of a Few More Words : Links

Writers' Showcase

Mick 'n Me: The Keith Richards Children's Book
by Con Chapman

Mick 'n Me: The Keith Richards Children’s Book

Keith Richards has co-written a children’s book—News item.

Mick ‘n me was flirtin’ with some birds when it started to rain.

“Let’s go inside ‘n play!” Mick says and the girls says “Sure!”

When we got inside we wondered what to do.

“Do you like arts ‘n crafts?” one of the birds says and Mick says “You bet!”

“Do you have Plaster of Paris?” the other asks.

“This is England,” I says, “not France.”

“No,” the first bird says. “Plaster of Paris is a fun way to spend time indoors. You mix it with water and make it into statutes.”

“What kind of statues?” Mick asks.

“All kinds,” the other bird says. “Pull down your pants and we’ll make a cast of the first one that comes up!”


If I was to pick my favoritest moments with me dad it would be the times we spent playing with our noses. I don’t mean like blowing milk out your nose when you laugh. I mean when you use your nose the right way, and take stuff in--like an elephant!

Dad’d pour me out a line of Lik-m-aid candy in grape or cherry, then he’d pour himself a line of his favorite candy. His was white–I guess he liked vanilla.

Then, he’d roll up a $100 bill he’d earned from his hard work of copying songs by dead black musicians. “Now,” he’d say, “put a finger on one nostril, and suck!”

I’d repeat those words until I was confident I could do it like a proper rock star, then inhale.

“There you go–Bob’s your uncle!” dad would say and he’d give me a penny for bein’ such a good boy. “Next week I’ll show you how to shoot up.”


It was a month after Valentine’s Day, and I regretted I’d given Mary Klapfelder a little candy heart that said “Let’s Spend the Night Together.” She was always waiting for me after school, and she’d leave herself wide open for a smacking in Dodgeball. It was over between us, but I didn’t know how to get her out of my life, so I asked my dad.

“Dad,” I says. “Is it ever okay to hurt a girl?”

“Absolutely not,” he says. “You could get sued and lose your record deal.”

“So I have to be Mary Klapfelder’s boyfriend forever?

Dad plunked me down on one knee. “What makes you say that?” he said.

“I want to break up with her, but she won’t leave me alone.”

Dad started to laugh.

“I thought you meant hurt hurt,” he said. “No, you did her a big favor by being her boyfriend.”

“I did?” Maybe Dad’s forgotten I pick my nose.

“Sure. You’re a rock star. You brought a fleeting taste of fame into her life, now dump her like a hot rock.”

“But what if she won’t leave me alone?”

“Have your people give her a bunch of money to be quiet and send her home in a cab.”